


Tall Tales

by FloatingWorldPictures



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Mockingjay, Mockingjay Spoilers, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, katniss everdeen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 12:25:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2692952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FloatingWorldPictures/pseuds/FloatingWorldPictures
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky has been reunited with Steve but he isn't sure what he wants to do now that he's free to direct his own life, or where he fits into a world where everything is different from what he knew before he was the Winter Soldier.  Spending his days aimless and soul-searching, Bucky meets a little girl who reminds him of skinny Steve and a few things about himself he didn't realize he forgot.</p><p>This is a G-rated fluff fic, except for a few not-very-terrible swear words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tall Tales

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after CA:TWS, and contains spoilers for that movie. I guess the entire premise is a spoiler though so, spoiler alert and also just see the movie already.
> 
> There are also some mild spoilers for Mockingjay, by Suzanne Collins, both for the book and I assume for part 2 of the movie. So just a heads up.
> 
> For the purposes of this fic, assume that Sam Wilson has joined the Avengers and everyone lives at Stark/Avengers tower.
> 
> A few lines from Suzanne Collins' Mockingjay and the Captain America movies are quoted, and I do not claim them or any of their characters as my own work.

    Bucky surreptitiously tucked the book into his jacket and zipped it up to the top.  Even though it was almost September, even though New York City was hot and muggy in the late summer doldrums, the jacket was necessary.  New Yorkers took a lot of things in stride, but the metal arm was too conspicuous, and Bucky just needed to be left alone today.  
    It was funny how he’d spent so much effort finding Steve, and he’d been so grateful that the team had accepted him without question so he wouldn’t have to be alone any more, and now mostly he just wanted to be left alone.  
    There were a lot of things he still needed to figure out.  
    The jacket was also necessary to smuggle the book out of the tower without anyone teasing him about it.  Yes, he was reading _Mockingjay_.  Yes, again.  Yes, it is a book intended for teenage girls.  Want to make something of it?  _*whirring arm recalibration noises*_    
    Didn’t think so.  
    Bucky couldn’t really explain why he felt so compelled to read popular YA fiction.  What could he possibly have in common with a bunch of teenagers?  It had started with _Harry Potter_ , actually.  He and Steve had watched all the movies as part of their “catch up with the rest of the 21st century” efforts, and Darcy Lewis, intern-extraordinaire, kept saying, “Oh, the books are _way better_.”  Bucky thought the movies were pretty amazing, but if the books were better he needed to read them.  Also it was getting annoying to have everyone always saying, “Oh, the books are _way better_ ,” like they were in on something which he was not.  So he read the books.    
    They were _way better_.  
    So he went about reading all the big YA franchises.  Even _Twilight_.  (Team Edward.)  
    It occurred to Bucky that it was easier to figure things out when he could think them through in the context of fictional characters and fictional worlds.  They were far enough removed from himself that he could look at them more objectively, and yet he could relate to them in a way that felt important and personal.  YA books seemed to revolve around themes of identity, and this was something that weighed heavily on his mind lately.     
     _Whatever_.  Bucky did not really like to talk about it.  And fictional characters didn’t make you talk about it.  You could just sort of... _think_.  
    Katniss was his favorite.  Katniss understood him.  And he envied her so much.  Even though they had forced her to be their tool, their symbol, forced her to kill people, she knew who she was.  “ _My name is Katniss Everdeen.  I am seventeen years old_.”  Bucky had tried this technique when his own thoughts seemed to swirl out of control.  _My name is James Buchanan Barnes.  I am...I am..._    
    He hadn’t made it very far.  
    How old was he supposed to say he was?    
    Never mind.  Just keep reading.  Katniss is seventeen years old.  It makes sense in the book.  Things make sense in the book.  Keep reading.

  
    There was a little park around the corner from Avengers tower that was often full of kids.  If Steve or Tony showed their faces at the park, the kids would mob them, begging for pictures and autographs.  They more or less left Bucky alone.  No one knew who he was and, anyway, he still kind of looked like a scary murder hobo.  Frankly, he didn’t care, as long as they kept their distance.  He found a shady spot under a tree, hid his metal hand in the pocket of his hoodie, and settled in with his book.  
    He was just getting to a really dramatic part in the story, when Katniss and her team are battling the lizard mutts in the sewers of the Capitol.  He steeled himself for the loss of one of his favorite characters at the climax of the scene when he was abruptly pulled back to reality by a small, clear voice.  
    “I read that book,” the voice said, throwing the phrase down like a challenge.  
    Bucky peered over the top of the pages to see a little girl standing in front of him.  She was a skinny kid with big, bright eyes.  Her hair was arranged in dozens of braids tipped with pink plastic barrettes that matched the pink cast covering her left arm.  Bucky had been prepared to tell her to leave him alone, but his attitude softened when he noticed she wore a Captain America t-shirt.    
    “Aren’t you a little young to be reading this book?” he asked the girl.  “It’s kind of...violent.”  
    “ _I’m_ eleven years old, I’m not a baby,” she replied, thrusting her good hand onto her hip defiantly.  “Aren’t _you_ a little _old_ to be reading it?”  
    When Tony Stark asked him that question, it had taken all of Steve’s pleading for Bucky not to throw a punch at the smug bastard.  But from this little girl, Bucky couldn’t help laughing a little.  
    “Probably, yeah,” he said.    
    “That’s okay,” the girl said, sitting next to him on the grass.  “I had to hide when I read it, too.  My momma would have been real mad.  I’m Kayla, what’s your name?”  
    Bucky hesitated.  “Um...it’s James.  Does your momma like you talking to strangers?”  
    Kayla shrugged.  “You’re only a little bit strange,” she said.  
    Bucky laughed in earnest at that.  “A little bit,” he agreed.    
    “Are you homeless?” Kayla asked, with all the charming straightforwardness of a child’s innocent curiosity.  “I have some of my lunch left if you want the other half of my peanut butter sandwich.”  
    “No, I’m not homeless,” Bucky said, a little taken aback until he remembered that he forgot to brush his hair before he left the house.  He probably looked extra disheveled today.  Steve kept trying to persuade him to cut his hair but Bucky actually kind of liked it.  He hastily tucked the ragged locks behind his ears.  “I live around the corner.  Do I really look homeless?”  
    “Weeeelllllll,” Kayla said, thinking it over for a moment.  “No offense, but kinda.  I just wondered, ‘cause, like, shouldn’t you be at work right now?  Grown ups are supposed to go to work during the day, aren’t they?”  
    “My job...has different hours than most jobs,” Bucky explained.  “Today’s my day off.”  
    “What’s your job?”  
    “Uh...” Bucky stalled.  _Out of work assassin?_   Then he thought of a diversion.  “What do _you_ want to be when you grow up?”  
    “I’m going to be in the army like Captain America when I grow up,” Kayla said proudly.  
    “That’s a very dangerous job.”  
    “I’m brave,” she replied, a little wistful.  Her gaze drifted toward a pack of boys who seemed to be playing a very rough and tumble sort of game.  One of them wore an Iron Man mask and another carried a plastic replica of Captain America's shield.  A third wielded a toy Mjølnir.  It never ceased to amaze Bucky that the Avengers were so popular they had official merchandise.    
    “Do you know those kids?” Bucky asked.  
    “I see ‘em around,” Kayla shrugged.  
    “Looks like a fun game they’re playing.  If you’re going to be like Captain America, maybe you should go play.”  
    Kayla’s skinny shoulders heaved as she sighed.  “They said girls can’t play,” she said dejectedly.    
    “What?” Bucky cried, truly outraged.  “That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard.  They better not let someone like the Black Widow hear them say things like that.”  
    Kayla’s eyes grew wide as she looked at Bucky solemnly.  “They said she isn’t even a _real_ superhero.  I think they’re stupid.  Black Widow is alright, but I want to be in the army like Captain America.  Girls can, you know.”  
    “I do know,” Bucky said.  “I was in the army, too.”  
    “Did you have to kill people?” Kayla asked.  
    Bucky pressed his mouth into a line, and the little girl seemed to understand that she had overstepped.  So she flashed him a toothy, crooked grin and gestured at the book.  “Which part are you at?”  
    “Lizard mutts.”  
    Her smile dropped.  “Oh, no!  I’m sorry!  I’ll let you read.  I’ll come back in a few minutes, though, because you’ll need a hug after you read this part.”  
    “Thanks,” Bucky said, standing up.  “But actually, I think I better head home.”  
    “Okay, nice to meet you James!” Kayla said before bounding to her feet and running off.  As he crossed the park, Bucky smiled to himself when he heard her shouting at the boys, “Black Widow _is too_ a superhero so you better let me play because _girls can!_ ”  
  
  
    He’d made it about a block away when he realized he’d left his hat under the tree.  It was his favorite hat, or he wouldn’t have bothered to go back for it.  
    The kids were still playing superhero, and it looked like they’d let Kayla join in.  
    At least, it looked that way until a boy used his Captain America shield to shove Kayla into the dirt.  “You can’t be Captain America because only boys can be Captain America!” the little boy shouted at her.    
    Kayla stood up, calmly dusted off her jeans, then reached back with her good arm and punched the kid in the nose.  He fell backward with a shout, and stared at Kayla from the ground, his mouth open in disbelief at this swift and unexpected result of his taunting.  The boy’s two companions helped him to his feet.  He marched up to Kayla and stood so that he towered over her, so close that blood dripped from his nose onto the toe of her shoe.  
    “You’re lucky you’re just a _little girl_ , or I’d punch you back,” he threatened.    
    Kayla threw her arms out wide.  “Go ahead and try.  I could do this all day.”  
    The boy threw a cruel smile over his shoulder at his friends, then pushed Kayla roughly off her feet.  He’d held on to the collar of her t-shirt as she fell, causing her Captain America t-shirt to tear down the front.  Kayla landed hard on her backside, desperately clutching the shirt to her chest.  Tears burned her eyes.  
    “See?”  The boy turned to leave.  “I told you, girls can’t be superheroes.”    
    Bucky looked around desperately.  Where were the grown ups?  Goddammit, _he was a grown up_.  And he seemed to be the only one in the park taking notice of this fight.  “Hey!” he barked at the boys, angrily walking toward them with what Sam Wilson had affectionately dubbed his “murder strut.”  The boys took off running and he had half a mind to chase after them, but then Kayla caught his eye.  She sat in the sand, furious and miserably trying to cross her cast across her chest to keep her ripped t-shirt from exposing her thin cotton undershirt beneath.  
    Before he could second guess himself, Bucky was shrugging out of his hoodie and rushing to her side.  
    “Hey,” he said gently, draping the hoodie around Kayla’s tiny shoulders.  “You okay?”  
    She sniffled and hastily wiped the angry tears from her cheeks before she tried to push him away.  “No, don’t.  Don’t help me.  Just leave me alone.”  
    Bucky sighed.  Did he not have plenty of experience with this sort of thing?  “If I had a dollar for every time Steve Rogers said that to me when I had to help him out of a fight somewhere, I’d be richer than Iron Man.”  
    That got Kayla’s attention.  “What?  Steve Rogers?  You talk to Steve Rogers?  That’s Captain America!  When did you help him in a fight?”  
    “All the time.  He’s my best friend.  And between you and me?  Your right hook is _way better_ than his was when he was eleven.”  
    Kayla’s eyes narrowed as she searched Bucky’s face for a hint of a smile.  “Don’t lie to me just ‘cause I’m a kid, James.  It won’t make me feel better.”  
    Bucky put up his hands.  “I’m not lying!  You throw a great punch!”  
    The glint of the afternoon sun against metal caught Kayla’s eye, and her gaze traveled up Bucky’s cybernetic arm.  _Oh, shit_.  For just a split second, he’d forgotten about it.  He’d forgotten everything it stood for.  He was just himself for a moment, helping out a scrappy, skinny kid who didn’t know how to back out of a fight with a bully, and wouldn’t want to know anyway.  But Bucky remembered his arm now.  He pressed it against his side, looking around to see whether anyone else noticed.  
    “James,” Kayla whispered urgently.  She looked around, too, and then leaned in close to him.  “You would tell me if you were a robot or something, right?”  
    “I’m not a robot,” he mumbled.  
    “It’s okay, I’m not scared of robots,” she pressed.    
    “I’m not a robot,” he said, a little louder.  _Shit._   What was he supposed to say to this kid about his arm?  “I just...I hurt my arm a while back and this is...it’s...”  
    Kayla nodded sagely.  “Sorta like my cast?” she supplied, holding up her own pink-plastered left arm.  
    Bucky relaxed.  “Right.  Something like that.”  
    Kayla seemed to relax now, too.  Before he could stop her, she was poking at his arm with her fingers, knocking at it with her knuckles.  “Wish I had a cast like yours!  This is awesome!  How’d you hurt it?”  
    “I, uh, I fell.”  
    “Me, too!  I was trying to do a backflip off the monkey bars but actually that’s, like, really hard.  I probably should learn some gymnastics before I try it again.  I landed right on my elbow and broke it real good.  What about you?”  
    “Oh, I fell off a moving train and down a mountain into a frozen river,” Bucky said, totally deadpan.  The truth was so ludicrous, it’s not like anyone would believe him, anyway.  
    Kayla giggled.    
    “I did!”  
    “Suuuuuuure you did.  And you’re Captain America’s best friend and you help him out when he gets into fights.  My daddy would call those some tall tales, James.”  
    The corners of Bucky’s mouth twitched up.  It was probably for the best that she thought he was telling her stories, and at least it seemed to have cheered her up.  Kayla got to her feet and wriggled her arms into the hoodie.  It was so big on her diminutive frame, it looked like she was wearing a tent.  
    “Mind if I borrow this?” she asked, zipping it up all the way to cover her ripped t-shirt.  
    “Sure,” Bucky replied.  “You hold onto it.”    
    “If you meet me here tomorrow after school, I can give it back.  _I promise_.”  She held up her right hand like she was swearing an oath.  
    Bucky thought this over.  “Okay, sure.  Tomorrow.”  He began to leave before something else about being the grown-up in the situation occurred to him.  “Should I, uh, walk you home or anything like that?  You’re sure you’re okay?”  
    “I’m eleven, not a baby.  Plus, I just live across the street,” Kayla assured him.  “Thanks James.  You’re pretty cool for an old guy who looks kinda homeless and tells a buncha tall tales.”  She grinned at him.  
    Bucky shook his head.  “Thanks, I think.  Bye, Kayla.  Uh, look both ways, I guess, and don’t talk to strangers!”  
    “Too late!” she cried as she scampered away.    
    

  
    The next afternoon was cloudy and humid, dense with the threat of rain.  Thor was home in Asgard or Bucky would have complained to him to do something about it.  But a little rain wasn’t going to make him break his promise to a kid, so Bucky gathered his book, a size small Captain America t-shirt, and a plastic shield he’d asked Steve to sign -- _To Kayla, The Army would be lucky to have you.  And maybe one day, The Avengers!  Never give up!  Your friend, Captain America._   He wrapped it all in a plastic bag, and headed to the park.  
    Bucky couldn’t resist ducking into a Starbucks on his way and ordered his favorite drink, a caramel Frappuccino with a few extra espresso shots, extra syrup and extra caramel drizzle on top.  One time Clint Barton had actually refused to walk next to Bucky on the sidewalk while he carried the 24 ounce cup overflowing with whipped cream, deriding it as a monstrous affront to actual coffee everywhere.  Bucky was convinced that Clint had never tasted one, or he wouldn't be so down on them.  Or possibly the archer simply hated joy.  Clint didn’t understand that during the war, sugar was rationed.  Dairy was rationed.  Coffee was rationed.  Basically anything that tasted good was rationed.  Plus, Bucky had grown up poor, so there was no way he would have ever been able to spend nearly seven dollars for a treat.  Caramel Frappuccinos were one of his favorite indulgences and, like his reading material, not up for discussion.  On the downside, he'd noticed that he didn't get sugar buzzed any more.  Figured that, like his inability to get drunk, it was a side effect of the serum.  On the upside, he could drink as many of the delicious, sugary concoctions as he pleased.  He managed to slurp down the entire thing in the less than ten minutes it had taken him to reach the park.   
    By 3:30, Bucky had finished _Mockingjay_ and was laying back against the tree with his hat pulled down over his eyes, contemplating what he felt was the very unsatisfying ending to the story when an accusatory voice cut into his thoughts.  
    “I Googled you.”  
    He peered out from under the brim of his hat to see Kayla standing before him with his hoodie draped over her cast.  Her other arm jutted from her hip as she glared at him.    
   _Shit.  Google_.  The internet sure was useful but Bucky had not anticipated that an eleven year old girl would do any digging on him.  Who knew kids these days were so resourceful?  “Are you old enough to be Googling people?” he hedged.  
    Kayla rolled her eyes.  “I’m eleven, not a baby,” she reminded him.  “Saw lots of stuff about you from that big S.H.I.E.L.D. leak last year.  ‘Cause you’re The Winter Soldier, right?  Aren’t you supposed to be, like, missing or dead or something?”  
     _Dammit, Nat._   Why’d she have to put all that stuff online?  Why didn’t he just lie to the kid yesterday, tell her to leave him alone?  Yes, he was supposed to be dead or missing, in fact.  Only the Avengers knew he’d turned up.  So what was he supposed to say to this kid now?  When Bucky didn’t answer, Kayla threw his hoodie down and began ticking off her items of evidence on her fingers.  
    “James, as in, Buchanan Barnes, as in Bucky, right?  Captain America’s best friend, knew him when he was a kid.  But you don’t look like a regular old guy.  In the army.  Fell off a train down a mountain.  The arm...” Kayla paused while she fished something out of her pocket.  A folded up piece of paper.  She shook it open and thrust it out.  It was a photograph of Bucky in cryo-freeze that she’d printed off the internet.  “That’s you, isn’t it?”  
    Bucky stared at the picture like it was a crime scene photo.  It horrified him, but he couldn’t look away.  Kayla seemed to notice the anguish that broke across his face because she crumpled up the paper and stuffed it back in her pocket.  “You weren’t telling tall tales,” she whispered.  
    “No,” Bucky said shortly.  
    Kayla plopped down cross-legged next to him in the grass.  “Can I ask you something?  It’s important.”  
    He nodded once.  Might as well get this over with.  _How many people did you kill?  Are you a bad guy?  Why did you let them do it to you?  How could you betray Captain America, he was your best friend?_   These were the questions he constantly asked himself.  
    “Do I really punch better than Captain America when he was my age?”  
    Bucky laughed with relief.  “Yeah, you really do.  He never gave anyone a bloody nose.”  
    Kayla beamed.  That seemed to clear up her concerns, because she noticed _Mockingjay_ and promptly changed the subject.  “Finish it yet?”  
    “Yeah.  I never like the ending, though.”  
    “Why not?”  
    “Katniss ended up doing all the things she never wanted to do,” Bucky said slowly.  He was still trying to work out what bothered him about that.    
    “But everything was different then,” Kayla pointed out.  “She had to do _something_.”  
   _I know the feeling_ , Bucky thought.  It wasn’t a good one.  He had no idea what he was supposed to do, now that everything was different.  He was different.  
    A few beats of silence passed.  Kayla eyeballed the plastic bag and Bucky remembered that he’d brought it for her.  He nodded toward it.  “I thought you could use a new Captain America shirt.”  
    The little girl eagerly tore into the bag and held out the shield reverently to read the inscription.  “This is really from him, isn’t it?”  
    “Sure is.  I hope the t-shirt is the right size.”  
    Kayla smiled bashfully at Bucky.  “Thank you so much.  And I _promise_ I won’t say anything about...you know...”  
    He smiled back.  “I know.  Thanks.”  
    After reading and re-reading the shield inscription about two dozen times, Kayla turned to Bucky.  “Are you going to join the Avengers now?  You totally should!  You’re a super-soldier, too, right?  Like Captain America?”  
    Bucky felt his face fall into a frown.  He had just gone through this argument with Steve and Dr. Banner the night before.  _Why not join the team, Buck?  I sure could use your help here_ , Steve had said.  Bucky explained that he was afraid his H.Y.D.R.A. programming would take over in a high-stress situation and that he’d hurt someone.  This was something Dr. Banner could sympathize with, and he offered to run some scans to see how Bucky’s brain was healing from all the years of brainwashing and cryo-freeze.  He’d have the results later tonight.  
    But it wasn’t just that.  He’d come back to everything so profoundly changed -- a different body, a different Steve, a different world.  Who was he in all this?  He had no idea if he was supposed to become a new version of himself or if he was supposed to reanimate his old self somehow.  
    “I don’t know if I’m Avengers material,” he answered finally.  
    Kayla looked him up and down appraisingly.  “You are,” she affirmed.  
    This declaration coaxed Bucky’s frown into a grin.  _This kid_.  “Oh, yeah?  How can you tell?”  
    Suddenly, Kayla looked like she was about to cry.  She took a deep, shuddering breath.  “I read all the files,” she said.  “About what they did to you.”    
    Bucky tried to interrupt, to reassure her with a lie that it hadn’t been that bad so she’d stop looking at him like he was an abused, lost puppy, but she waved away his concern.  “I know, I know, I’m only eleven.  But I’m not stupid.  I can Google things.  I read what they did.  And I just think...after all that...you’re still _good_.  I can tell.”  
    “I don’t know what I am,” he said softly.  _Why the hell are you talking about this to a kid?_   But part of him wondered, was it that much different from thinking it through with literature for kids?  Clearly they had some essential insight he seemed to need.  
    Kayla got to her feet and reached out to rest a timid hand on Bucky’s metal arm.  “I think you could be a superhero, if you want to be,” she said with a shrug.  “I’m no expert, I’m just sayin’...”  She patted his shoulder.  “You definitely have the muscles for it, anyway!”  
    A few drops of rain began to pepper the sidewalk before them, and water dripped through the leaves of the tree onto Bucky and Kayla.  It was time to go.  
    “ _You’re_ going to be a superhero,” Bucky said as he stood.  “I think I’m pretty close to an expert and I can tell.  I hope that t-shirt is the right size.”  
    Kayla held it up to her shoulders.  It reached nearly to her knees, but it had been the smallest size they could scrounge up for him on such short notice.  “I’ll grow into it!” Kayla called as she turned to go.  “Bye James!”  
    He stood in the rain and waved, then started for home, fishing around in his pockets to see if he had enough change to get another Frappuccino.  
    _My name is James Buchanan Barnes.  I don’t even know how old I’m supposed to say I am.  Maybe that doesn’t matter.  Everything has changed but I am still me._


End file.
